Back at the elementary school, the Janitor is getting chewed out for his tardiness. The principal just doesn't understand how tired you can get, climbing in and out of people's asses. After the chewing out is concluded, the Janitor gets his mop and pail out of the closet and starts doing his maintenance-type thing. I stare at a sign over the door of the school that reads "Drug Free, Live Free!" I wonder if my sister has to look at that every day, or if it's just there courtesy of the set designer. Young Bully Trevor swings, late, into class, but Janitor catches his eye. Trevor stares as the Janitor flickers like a light bulb, between visible and invisible. His face morphs, briefly, into Morty's. Trevor looks slightly perturbed.
Time to visit Chuck Burke, Mulder's friend, and general purveyor of wacky theories. He should have taken over Mulder's position in the Bureau. Look, people, I like Robert Patrick. He's doing what he can with what they're giving him, which is, frankly, nothing. But all that talk about the sizzling chemistry between him and Gillian Anderson was bunk. Chuck's lesson today is about fakirs -- ascetic masters who torture themselves in order to obtain enlightenment. He plays a video for the agents, which he claims to have taken himself while traveling in India during the 1970s. A long-haired guy on screen waves maniacally. "Look at all that hair," Chuck sighs. Out of the corner of her mouth, Scully hisses that Mulder consulted with Chuck on any number of issues and items. Oh, you remembered his name? Nice. Chuck admits that certain ascetic mystics have mysterious and powerful abilities, which are passed from father to son. Occult powers. Wacky powers! Powers that let them manipulate reality, become invisible, or as tiny as an atom. "I hope they're tiny, considering where they're going, " Doggett cracks. Oh, Doggett made a funny! Chuck smirks. Scully rolls her eyes so hard I think she might sprain her optic nerve. Apparently, these mystics can also transform themselves into other people, so saith Chuck. Scully makes her thoughtful face. These mystics have a convenient array of talent. In case you didn't get the memo, Doggett says some more stuff, the upshot of which is that he's SKEPTICAL. I am out of words. "This has been...insightful," he snarks, and stalks off. "This doesn't surprise me, " Chuck calmly tells Scully. "It's hard to believe something you don't understand." Scully makes her face of Trite Understanding.
House of Quentin. Quentin's sitting on the stoop, playing a guitar and singing "Cat's Cradle," and crying about his poor dead dad. Actually, he so is not. He totally doesn't care anymore. Trevor comes gallumping up to the door, and after some bully/bullee repartee, breathlessly tells his former Arch Enemy that he knows who killed his dad; the six-fingered man. Almost. Actually, he says no more, but just watches Trevor gulp.